Waldorf Soiree
by Sky Samuelle
Summary: In early season 2, with Lord Marcus no longer standing between them, the sexual tension between Chuck and Blair explodes during one infamous Waldorf Soiree.


**Title: WALDORF SOIREE**

**Author: **Sky Samuelle

**Summary:** Pure smut and dirty talk, as it is my response to a GG Anonymous Kink Meme entry. In early season 2, with Lord Marcus no longer standing between them, the sexual tension between Chuck and Blair explodes during one infamous Waldorf Soiree. Slightly revised from my first post on GGAN.

**Rating:** Mature

**Spoilers: **Vague, up to 2.04

**Ship: **Blair/Chuck

**Status**: Complete

After so many years of wondering and doubting, Blair Waldorf had finally received the clear, brutal confirmation that her mother – and maybe even God- hated her.

There was simply no other reason for which, after a whole summer of complete, humiliating sexual abstinence and even more degrading tears, Eleanor and the Fates would have conspired to have her sitting beside the very source of her misery during one of the most 'populated' Waldorf soirees.

To her credit, Blair was doing her best to ignore that motherchucker completely. She wasn't even looking at him! Her neck was stiff and aching from the effort of keeping her head turned away, as if the chatter around her was actually interesting.

Too bad she was so focused on ignoring Chuck's conversational overtures – and his very existence – to listen anything but the buzzing of her blood rushing to her head.

Stupid idiot. It was entirely his fault that she had wasted months on a boring, frigid Lord who got fresh on his whorish ex-model of a stepmother. To think all that she wanted was to go to Italy! With the devil! Having tons of slow, depraved sex!

And now she was here. And he was there, sitting at her side. And they hadn't been so close since…since the blackout, when she had been so near, _so near_, to degrading herself again by giving her body to him. But at least Chuck would have satisfied her! Fully! Instead she had gotten Lord Marcus, who apparently needed a map to figure out how to please a woman (though apparently only if saidwoman was not related to him).

Men were worthless! All of them!

Blair was midway through her mental rant when she felt a warm weight on her knee. Instinctively, her back stiffened at the contact. There was a hand squeezing her knee!

She turned toward the Basshole beside her, but – infuriatingly – he was gazing serenely into his glass of red wine, swirling it so very calmly that nobody would suppose his other hand was actually busy stroking an innocent girl's knee.

Yes, Charles Bartholomew Bass was actually the devil! No doubt about that.

"Chuck!" she hissed through gritted teeth. "Stop immediately!"

He darted a smirking glance at her.

"Keep your voice down, Waldorf, or you will scare your guests away!"

Blair saw red; her jaw clenched so hard it hurt. She tried to push his hand away, but his light pressure on her knee became a death grip. And under the suspicious eye of Mrs. Whickam, a severe-looking matron in front of her, Blair had to desist from her attempts to dislodge him with both hands.

Blair aimed one of her fakest, most ingratiating smiles toward the older woman, but Mrs. Whickam's grim expression didn't change. Chuck chuckled, shamelessly amused.

Sadistic bastard.

Sexy, sadistic Basstard, whose voice was lascivious and dark even while _chuckling_.

Fine. She would ignore him until he gave up his uncouth, cocky antics. That would teach him some decorum!

Blair's hands returned to the table, playing with her napkin.

His hand slid upward, stroking her skin slowly, lingeringly.

She froze, wishing she had worn thick, modest pantyhose, regardless of the season. His touch was making her itch all over. How she hated him!

"Chuck," she muttered warningly, still smiling, her head leaning a bit toward his, "I told you – quit it!"

Chuck leaned in toward her, too; enough that she could feel his warm breath in her ear when he replied, quite smugly, "What am I, your dog?"

Blair shivered, partly in indignation and partly in reaction to the particular sort of discomfort his physical proximity always caused her.

"Oh, you aren't mine at all, but you are definitely a dog! A horn dog who cannot manage to behave for five min…! "

She didn't get to finish her sentence. His treacherous hand had somehow succeeded in reaching her upper thigh, hiking up her skirt. His caress was very gentle, almost tentative. Her knees fell apart under a will of their own and her bottom jumped a little, lifting up ever so slightly to allow him better access.

This was betrayal! Her body was cheating, with no regard for her dignity or…or… Why was it so difficult to keep her mental processes going?

"Frankly, B, I don't think I'm the horniest person at this table."

He sounded amused, his voice velvety, rich and low in her ear. It felt so much more intimate and…dirtier than was appropriate.

"It's not anything to be ashamed about, anyway. A whole summer of parading around with Princess Ken… I bet it wasn't easy on your demanding, tight body. It was used to quite different standards, do you remember?"

Blair gulped. Her dress felt too tight, and he was way too close. He had no right to speak like that to her, but…but… Her brain wasn't functioning coherently enough to deny anything. Hell, she couldn't even move a muscle: she was wound so tight, she feared the smallest movement would potentially give her away to the whole table. Or maybe only to her _assaulter_, if she was lucky, but that was nearly as bad.

The way this discomfort made her feel came as a surprise. It went against all she had known and held for certain to…get frisky at the dinner table and risk her reputation over it. Yet, it didn't feel cheap and she didn't feel like a slut.

She did feel …helpless, in a good way that stripped her bare of all her masks. Desirable. Very feminine.

Chuck continued his assault, kneading her thigh up and down slowly, like he hadn't a care or a reason to rush in the world.

"Have I told you how much I like your dress tonight? Black is always good on you, but that corset is a sight to behold. I keep thinking about how fast I could undo all those ties, to have your breasts spilling out into my waiting palms. It's been so long since the last time I felt them up. I miss that soft, ripe flesh under my fingers…and my mouth. Remember how much you liked it when I bit your nipples hard? You almost screamed once. You used to pull my hair nearly off my scalp, too, when you couldn't stand waiting anymore and you wanted me deep inside. I can't imagine your Lord putting up with that. "

Blair's breath hitched when Chuck stopped talking, still sounding calm and collected as if they were discussing the weather. His arrogance both irritated her and turned her on.

Was it her fault she found strength of character attractive in a man, regardless of his perversity? Her lace underwear was completely soaked.

His hand progressed toward her inner thigh, and her hips bucked forward, forcing her to adjust her seat closer to the table to dissimulate. The maneuver allowed her to spread her thighs further, welcoming his probing fingers, now almost sitting on his hand.

He stroked her sex through the soiled lace, slowly but roughly, and Blair had to clamp her napkin against her mouth to smother a wanton whimper.

"You're so wet already. So ready and hot for my cock. I wouldn't have guessed it."

Even that condescending tone of his was doing strange, amazing things to her body. Her skin tingled, her muscles ached, and her mind was hazy and full of dirty images. When he spoke, it was like his voice was caressing her all over, forcing every single cell of hers to come back to life. It was a magical, unique sensation, conquering her senses so completely that there was simply no space left for shame.

.

A firm tug and her panties were ripped off. The sudden sensation of her cunt exposed and vulnerable on his palm took her arousal to an utterly unprecedented degree.

With no warning, two of his fingers slipped in, stretching and filling her.

Forget everything. God existed and loved Blair Waldorf beyond human comprehension: a pleasure like the one she was currently experiencing could be only of divine inspiration.

The pressure was delicious, and Chuck was not moving at all, drawing out the irresistible torment.

"You are so tight, Blair. You'll fit me like a glove."

Her name on his lips sounded filthy, yet he had a way to articulate it reverently, like it was something precious. She wished so much she could be precious to him. She wanted him so much. More than she had ever wanted anything.

"I want to fuck you the way you like it, hard and slow until you forget your name and all that will fill your pretty head will be me. My hands on you, everywhere…"

Her lips opened soundlessly as she rode – literally – the most intense orgasm she had ever dared imagine. Her shoulders shook, her stance melted, her vision dissolved.

Blair groaned, panted into her napkin and opened her eyes to realize quite a few guests were staring at her. Luckily for her, the aftershock of her pleasure was too intense to let her feel anything else, even the most natural embarrassment at being discovered.

"Are you all right, dear?" Mrs. Anderson asked her, looking concerned.

Blair blinked at her dazedly, barely making sense of her words.

Chuck broke in, all smarmy and coolly reassuring. "I'm afraid Blair is about to be sick. She was just confiding in me how nauseous she was."

It occurred to Blair how very good he was at that: fingering half-aware, lust-sick girls under dinner tables and acting blasé over his misdeed. Of course! He had had lots and lots of practice!

The mere thought of Chuck repeating those same actions with other women made Blair's mind suddenly much clearer. She wasn't one of his whores! How did he dare! How did he dare to do – this – with someone else?!

"Be a gentleman, Charles, accompany her upstairs," Lily cut in.

Still fuming silently over the mental images of Chuck screwing his hoes over and under many different tables, Blair completely missed the significant look that passed between the new Mrs. Bass and her stepson. What she _did_ see was Chuck nonchalantly pocketing her underwear as he nodded to the other guests and circled her waist with his arm.

Her cheeks flushing most embarrassingly, she allowed the self-satisfied son of a bitch to lead her away. To her bedroom.

As soon the door closed behind them, her hand collided with his face, slapping him hard. His lips opened to formulate some half-assed profanity, but she didn't give him enough time to utter anything but a yelp of surprise. Her fingers were in his short, soft hair, gripping and pulling his head back harshly. Her tongue invaded his mouth ravenously as her chest flattened against his. This was how they were meant to be: not angry and apart, but so close that even air couldn't fit in the space between their bodies. She unbuckled his belt and tugged at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin under her fingertips.

He unzipped her dress hurriedly and then pushed her roughly away, pulling the thin material down her shoulders and hips until it pooled at her feet.

Naked before his dark, ferocious gaze, she felt fragile and vulnerable, sensual and broken, wanton and deprived.

When Chuck reached for her, she went into his arms swiftly, flooded with relief at the feeling of his hands cupping her nude ass and pressing her centre against his groin.

"Do it, fast," Blair muttered in between feverish kisses. "I want you inside me."

"I bet you do, baby," Chuck groaned, sounding light-headed at the brutally arousing memory of her hot wetness soiling her panties while he caressed her.

He lifted her up against the wall and her legs closed around his waist as a vise as his member penetrated her violently. To be honest, she wasn't sure how much of his roughness depended on his enthusiasm and how much of it was due to her leaning back and basically falling on his dick on her own accord, but she chose not to dwell on it.

Having him back inside her felt amazing, and she wanted to believe he needed this reprieve to be wild and desperate as much as she did.

"Inside you, baby, is definitely the best place I've ever been," He moaned in her ear, and it soothed her fears, even while it erased her last slivers of shame.

Blair grunted, nibbling on his shoulder and sinking her nails into his back. "Don't call me baby."

She didn't really mind it, but it seemed important to say something to maintain some semblance of sanity.

Chuck pounded into her harder and harder, slow and relentless just like he had promised. She could barely stand how good it felt, having his hard length slamming in and out of her, every thrust making her slide up and down the wall at her back.

"I can't believe how tight you are. It feels almost like the first time I had you. I loved it then, too. There's nothing like the feeling of an untainted, unexplored pussy clasping you, all ready and warm. But you were always something special. More…just more."

For someone who was usually so closed up, Chuck Bass tended to be irresistibly, implacably talkative during sex. It was perhaps the only occasion he blurted whatever was brewing in his overactive brain. At least, he was like this with Blair… and she loved it, although she would have never admitted it.

Now she was panting more harshly, tears veiling her gorgeous brown eyes because she was so very close to complete ecstasy than she could taste it, and the impatience was killing her.

"Was I the best you ever had?" she whispered, her tone half-playful and half-desperate, much to her chagrin.

"Absolutely."

He kissed her deeply, his tongue plundering her mouth hungrily and swallowing her cries of mind-numbing pleasure while his cock staked her deeper and deeper, until he was so incredibly ensconced in her they were numb to anything else.

They both staggered to the ground, entwined and frantically grabbing each other, almost insane with desire when their orgasm hit them, forcing them to slide down the wall.

Afterwards, Blair would swear she had blacked out for a while, because when she opened her eyes again, startled by how clammy with sweat her skin felt, and how strange the sensation of Chuck still inside her was, her face was hidden in the crook of his neck and his hands were all over her back and shoulders and hips, caressing her possessively as if to reclaim every inch of her.

Everything they had just done started to come back to her. _Oh God._

What if someone had noticed? If her mother came upstairs to look for her? How long had they been gone, anyways?

"You need to get off! "

She almost cried out, her words tripping into each other in panic.

Eyes closed, smirk firmly in place but somehow softer than usual, the chauvinistic pig did nothing but sighed contentedly "I already did".

She punched his chest in retaliation.

"Chuck!"

"Blair?"

It utterly mystified her how he could just stay there, gloriously half-naked and blasé, fingers tracing lazy patterns on her hips, gaze alight with a naughty glint.

"We need to return downstairs "

He had the gall to roll his eyes at her stern tone, like she was insane!

"We can't" – Chuck punctuated slowly, the way she imagined he would do if explaining something to a particularly dim-witted child, sliding his arm around her waist to hold her closer - You look thoroughly ravished."

She felt her lips curl up in a reluctant smirk. What was it about him that made her react in all the wrong ways?

"So get lost, and I'll freshen up"

"I can do that so much better for you if I stay right where I am"

"Chuck!"

"Feel free to shriek like that again when your back is on the floor "

"I do not _shriek_, you pig, and you will do better to think of something besides sex before someone comes up to check on us."

"It's hard when you are still riding me"- he paused a moment to seemingly enjoy his inside joke- "No pun intended. "

And since Blair _really_ couldn't stand it when he contradicted her just for the sake of it, she told herself it really wasn't her fault that her mouth kissed his.

She had to shut him up somehow.

**END**


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